The Friend
by 89KuroAkuma
Summary: Abused Harry Potter finds a friend in his head. He's gone and made friends with sane Tom Riddle Jr. But when friends inside your head are also alive somewhere else, still known as a blood thirsty Dark Lord, how does this develop into maybe something deeper? *Dumble, Weasley Bash fest
1. Dursley House

**Disclaimer** : I'm not famous, and certainly can't write like J. K. Rowling, so I must not be her. All things recognized belong to her. Harry Potter belongs to her. This plot however is mine. I apologize if any part of this story seems familiar to another story, but I haven't copied or replicated any parts. Now on with it! ~Kuro

* * *

Through the howling wind, hardly anything could be heard by the outside of Number 4 Privet Drive. On the inside however, the house was going through its daily routine. Harry Potter, a young boy of 9, lay abandoned by the side of the dining room, silently staring at the dinner table. His petite, short and skinny body lay collapsed by the little cupboard under the stairs, right arm hanging at an awkward angle. Jet black hair was covering his left eye and his forehead, where a small scar shaped like a lightning bolt rested. His hair ran fairly straight until it ended with little waves. His right eye, uncovered and bright green stared at the other residents of Number 4 Privet Drive, who at this point were enjoying dinner, chattering away noisily.

"Did you have a nice day at work today hun? Our little Diddykums here was really rather lively at the supermarket. He told exactly what kinds of food he wanted- meat, and lots of it!"

Petunia Dursley- an old lady with a plain face, long neck perfect for spying, and more gray hairs than she cared to admit. She had an everlastingly nasal voice, which grated on and on when she screeched at you. She was sitting at the right of the table currently enjoying the kale that Harry had prepared earlier on.

As was to be expected, she was talking about her perfect, little (more like fat) Dudley 'Diddykins' Dursley, a 8 year old beach ball- boy, who brought light and goodness wherever he went. Dudley was eating about half the meat Harry had cooked, sat on the left of the table.

Last but not least, was Vernon Dursley, fat, not at all smart, epitome of all seven deadly sins, currently swallowing the other half of the meat. He was sitting at the head of the table, Ogre Lord Dursley, and the reason for Harry's twisted arm.

"I had a very nice day at work today, sweetums. And of course, my boy knows what he wants. No finer thing in life than lots of meat and women to enjoy it." Vernon replied.

Harry snorted silently to himself. He should probably hide the fact that he was gay then. As if Vernon needed an excuse to beat him up more, same thing with Dudley. Actually that might not be such a problem, considering that he probably wouldn't ever love anyone enough to get close to them. A sharp voice cut into his musings, as footsteps thundered above him.

"Get to work freak. If you finish fast enough there might be a full plate left over for you, to feed your worthless beggar stomach." Petunia screeched at him.

Lies. There was never a full plate for him- never even a plate for him. Petunia would say he was too dirty to get a plate, that freaks didn't deserve one, that beggars had to be useful to get one. LIES. Petunia made him take showers everyday to stop the germs from entering the house, he wasn't a freak, and he did most of the chores and household keeping. Still, he always had to eat off the ground or rummage around the garbage. Well, it didn't matter anyways. Harry sighed softly in annoyance than got up slowly, gingerly moving his right arm.

"Well, freak? What are you waiting for hurry up and wash those dishes, or no supper for you." Vernon bellowed, his piggy eyes watching Harry's movements from his spot on the couch.

Harry walked to the dining table, where the dishes were strewn around, spilled sauce covering Dudley's part of the table. He gathered the dishes quietly and moved them to the sink, where he started methodically cleaning each one, slower than normal due to his right arm handicap. Suddenly, a crash of glass shattering behind him and footsteps following made his startle, and he turned around slowly. Green eyes met rage filled ones. "Boy!" Vernon yelled. Oh, he'd zoned out again.

* * *

Dudley Dursley slipped downstairs. He had forgotten to take his usual after dinner snack to go with his tv watching. Closing the refrigerator after grabbing the carton of ice cream, he saw a glass of milk on the kitchen countertop. Smirking evilly, one of his simple minded plots sprang into his head. He took the glass of milk and threw it against the floor. As he had planned, glass shattered, the milk made a mess on the floor, his dad Vernon rushed over.

"Diddykums, are you all right?" Bonus! Scored! His mother had rushed over as well, wanting to see if her precious son was all right. Yes! Dudley cheered internally. That freak was going to get it big time.

Dudley started to fake sob. "Mommy, Dad, t-the freak threw the glass of milk at me when I asked him if he wanted it."

"Oh my Diddykums, you're so sweet and kind and caring. That nasty freak doesn't even take an act of kindness seriously. Well, Vernon will show that freak what exactly is his place in this household. Don't worry Diddykins, everything will be alright." Petunia said. "Vernon, that boy broke one of Diddy's cups after our son was so caring, the freak deserves a beating don't you think?

"Yes honey, got to show that freak his place." Vernon grunted as he lumbered over to the kitchen. He bellowed "Boy!"

Harry met his 'uncle' *insert- fat pig* Vernon's glare, and sighed internally. What had 'he' done now? "Boy, you've broken one of our precious glasses and made Dudley cry, you're gonna get it now." Ah, there was his answer. So Dudley pretended again just like always. Well nothing he could do right now would help despite his little secret, so he just stood in silence.

Uncle Vernon strode across the room in three swift steps and grabbed Harry by his broken arm. Roughly dragging Harry behind him, he pulled Harry past Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, past the dining table, and into living room. "Strip." He ordered harshly, turning around to get his belt that hung by the door. Vernon grabbed his belt, and closed the living room door. Turning back around, Harry had already stripped his shirt off and threw it towards his cupboard. He was lying on the floor motionless, face expressionless.

"You Freak." Crack went the belt. "Doing all that-" Crack. "unnatural stuff. Being a disgrace-" Crack. "to the people who took-" Crack. "you in despite your freakishness." Crack. "Not showing your-" Crack. "gratefulness to the ones who gave you-" Crack. "shelter and food. You haven't-" Crack. "done anything to repay us." Crack. "Us, who took you-" Crack. "in out of the kindness of our hearts." Crack. And so it went on- Vernon ranted while whipping Harry for at least a dozen more strokes.

Harry closed his eyes, pushing the pain into a numb pile at the very edge of his mind. His face turned from emotionless, into a slight glance of annoyance and fury, before morphing back to impassiveness. Vernon had repeated the same speech so many times, it was a wonder he didn't get tired saying it. His back when he got into his cupboard again would most likely be a fury of red welts and blood, some of the less recent bruises turning into a throbbing purple. If not for his secret, it'd probably still be that way the next day.

An hour later, Harry got roughly thrown into his cupboard, the sounds of a lock being turned happening soon after. "Stay in there boy. And no dinner or breakfast for you tomorrow. Wake up early to make us breakfast, and don't let anyone at school know about your freakishness. We Dursleys are perfectly normal unlike you." Vernon ordered.

Later, after the Dursleys were asleep, Harry was left staring at the ceiling blankly. Finally, he sighed after he heard a loud rumble- his Uncle's snoring. Harry closed his eyes and focused. He needed to concentrate hard enough to wish away the pain. As the pain melted away slowly, Harry relaxed. He found himself in a large circular room. Books filled the walls from top to bottom. A gap in the bookshelves left enough space for fireplace, warm, toasty, and roaring. A big mahogany desk with a large black spinning chair was towards the back. Files and paper were strewn across its surface. The middle of the room was covered in a white, fluffy rug. There were two single person green couches facing each other. One was occupied. "Hey." Harry breathed.

"Oh you're here. Finally, I was getting tired of waiting." The handsome man sitting on one of the couches replied. He had inky black hair in neat waves coming down to his neck, muscular shoulders, had a lean, lithe body, and seemed to draw eyes wherever he went. His face was probably shaped by magic herself, perfect, symmetrical, and flawless. But the most fascinating part about him, Harry mused was his ruby red eyes. They always caught the light and shined impressively.

"Hey Tom. Sorry I'm late."

Tom arched one perfect eyebrow. "Did they hit you again?" He asked concerned.

"Not too bad." Harry replied.

"You want me to help?"

"Nah, it's good. It'll give me a chance to practice my recovery magic." Harry grinned. "He used the belt again, so there are fresh cuts that are still bleeding, but I'll be healed by tomorrow.

"That damn muggle. I'll kill him for touching you." Tom growled, rage present in his eyes.

"It's fine Tom. Anyways continue where we left off last time, where you were talking about how to walk like a pureblood."

"Wait, a week Harry. I'll definitely send someone to rescue you from those hateful mudbloods. Then you'll grow up with a proper pureblood family. Dumbledore won't be able to touch you then. Just tell me your address and I'll save you." Tom proclaimed.

"Thanks Tom. It's Number 4 Privet Drive." Harry reached over and hugged the older man. Tom stiffened then wrapped his arms around Harry gently.

"Night Harry."

* * *

Far away, in castle in Scotland, an elderly man sat on his luxurious chair sucking lemon drops. His white hair and beard stood out along with his twinkly blue eyes.

His desk was just about to sag with the weight of all the piles of parchment that lay scattered among the old desk. Many odd things were jumbled among the shelves that surrounded the desk. Rows and rows to little silver whirling things made a low mechanical hum as they spun in place.

"It's almost time for Harry Potter to be introduced to our world. Just 2 more years to go." The man said to himself. "He'll be weak but strong, dependant on me, but a leader to all, my greatest pawn." The man smiled triumphantly. It'll be time for you to die Tom." He slipped into a deep, peaceful sleep.

One of the man's silver instruments stopped. For the slightest, fleeting moment, it seemed as if the silver had turned emerald green. But that moment vanished and it once again was silver. Only the smallest drop in mechanical humming would be the evidence that the instrument was no longer working. But it would be too late a discovery for the man to do anything about it.

A name plate gleamed on top of the messy desk. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was spelled out in elegantly long letters, shining in the moonlight. Albus Dumbledore slept on.

* * *

O-kay and that's a wrap. Chapter 1 is done. Please read, at this point you've probably already done so, and review. I would ask for people not to hate on me, but criticism is appreciated. Updates are sporadic, hoping to get one in within the next few weeks, but no promises. Sorry if it sounds very cliche at the moment, but it'll start moving over the next few chapters. ~Kuro


	2. That Winter Day

Disclaimer: I am not rich, or as brilliant as the original, so sadly Harry Potter is not mine. All things recognized belong to J. K. Rowling. The plot is mine. Sorry for any spelling mistakes. Sorry for any confusion. Sorry if any of this feels like a copy of another story, but I promise you it's not. Now, I present: Chapter 2 ~Kuro

* * *

Harry woke to the sound of banging pots and pans.

"Get up freak. You need to hurry and make breakfast so Vernon won't be late for his very important meeting today."

Ah, there was his daily wake up call, not that he needed it most of the time. He'd overslept today. Aunt Petunia's horse screech rang through the house as she unlocked the cupboard door to let the youngest member of the household out of his cramped 'room'. Normally in the mornings, he'd be awake, meditating and reflecting over the night's teachings to pureblood society by Tom, but yesterday there was no new information to uncover, just the smallest hope.

Harry knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't, but he did anyways. He couldn't stop. Couldn't stop believing in Tom, his one and only friend. Couldn't stop hoping Tom would keep his promise. His friend, his guide, his teacher, his everything really. And so, Harry hoped and waited. But for now, school would have to do as a temporary shelter from the Dursleys. At least he was a human there.

Harry walked- rather crawled- out of the cupboard's tiny entrance, and retrieved his glasses from where they had been left, smashed from the previous night's beating. He sighed. One side of the frame was twisted, but could be twisted back. At least the glass didn't break like last time, or he would have to tape it again. Glasses on, stunning green eyes covered, the world felt marginally clearer. Not much of an improvement but he'd take what was given.

Heading towards the kitchen lest Aunt Petunia raise her voice again, Harry hurriedly started to make the normal breakfast in the Dursley household. A third of the container of bacon, four eggs and three cheese slices for Dudley; half the container, seven eggs and four cheese slices for Vernon; a cup of yogurt, and two slices of whole grain toast for Petunia.

"BOY! Are you finished? What's taking you so long?" Vernon bellowed settling down into his chair at the dining table.

"Yes, Dudders is a growing boy and needs his daily breakfast to grow big and strong, don't you Dudley? Hurry up with breakfast, FREAK!" called Petunia, who was coming back in the house for her morning session of spy on neighbor 1.

Right, he'd almost forgotten the drinks. Coffee for Vernon and orange juice for Dudley. Sighing he prepared the drinks and then made his way over ten dining table carrying the plates of food.

"About time, lazy, good for nothing boy." Aunt Petunia sneered.

Harry didn't bother to reply as he would only get another beating. Instead he walked back into the kitchen eating his breakfast- a leftover piece of toasted bread. The same as always. Everyday of every year. Get up. Make breakfast. Eat scraps. Wash dishes. If it was a school day, he'd put on his school uniform, otherwise there'd be another impossible list of chores to do. Expected to be done by dinnertime. Naturally punishments were given if he failed to do all. Well technically, punishments were given because he existed.

It didn't matter anyways. Nothing would come out of resisting. Nothing good. Harry sighed as he put on his school uniform. His high school uniform. That's right. High school- 12th grade to be exact. He was going to graduate this year, as one of the seniors of Priory Leighwood High School.

* * *

Ever since he was little, Dudley seemed to take a perverse interest in tormenting him- whether it was pulling the mother-he's-being-mean-to-me or going after him with bare muscles and a lot of fat. When he'd started pre-k at the age of five, Dudley was sent as well. From the start he had bad mouthed Harry- telling the girls he was mean, telling the boys he was a wimp. For a few months, it was on tenterhooks. The girls were as friendly with him as another guy, if not a bit more hesitant. The guys offered to play with him at recess. Dudley hadn't been taken that seriously. Hope struck Harry- ah he was so young and naive at the time, Harry remembered sadly. He had thought that maybe he would have friends, he'd meet people who weren't as disgusted by him as the Dursley's so clearly were, that maybe, just maybe, for the first time in his life, he'd find someone to care for, someone that cared for him.

But that day in late November, they had abandoned him. Thrown him into the freshly shoveled snow piles. "Goodbye Harry." they'd said. "Dudley's gonna hurt us if we stay around with you." His whole class- all the people he had trusted with his emotions- they'd all agreed to cast him aside. How easy it was to desert one to save yourself- to sacrifice one for the greater good of all. He snorted. Like hell he would ever believe in the greater good again. It was worthless. Life was worthless. He closed his eyes, already trembling from the cold that surrounded him.

"Why don't you just kill them all then? If they're worthless, then just get rid of wasted space." A voice had spoken. Out loud? No aloud. It was all in his head. So the Dursleys were officially right, he'd succumbed to a mental illness of some kind, certainly random voices inside heads weren't an everyday occurrence, right?

Harry laughed bitterly, the cold making his teeth chatter.

"Well excuse me. I'm not just a random voice, you know. In the simplest terms, you could call me a spirit of sorts. I've just been sharing your mindspace within your head. Gotta admit, your library's pretty big. Of course, most of the books are blank right now, but as you age, they'll write themselves." The voice spoke again.

Spirit? Mindspace? Library? Books? What was the man talking about? Harry wondered.

The voice seemed to sigh. "Of course you don't know, it's probably your first time. Well, I'll show you for your first time."

Harry suddenly felt as if he were falling- falling without anything to catch him, falling in the dark. As was natural, he began to panic and waved his arms around wildly. But as if it never happened he was on solid ground again, somewhere that was not a snow pile. He had landed in the middle of a circular white room. The ceiling, floor, and walls were all white- at least what he could see of the walls. Most of the walls were covered in bookshelves. Shelf after shelf, they were all filled with books. Harry got up to get one of the books. Books were a rarity in the Dursley household after all, with all the tv watching in the house. He should enjoy this chance while he could.

"Don't bother. They're all empty." There was that voice again. Where was it coming from?!

"Hey, I'm right behind you." Harry spun around and sure enough something was behind him, no, someone.

It was a man, much taller than Harry was, lean, pale skinned, dark hair covering his eyes. He was leaning against a door that Harry hadn't seen before. "No need to look like you've seen a ghost, but technically I could be called a spirit though…" the man drifted off into his musings, half of which Harry didn't understand.

"Where is this place? Why are all the books blank? Why are you here? Who are you?" Before he knew it, Harry had already blurted out his burning questions. Stupid, who knows, he might be an enemy, or one of those people who'll turn their backs on me. I don't need to get interested in this, I don't need to get hurt again, Harry admonished himself.

"Hurt? Why would I hurt you? Who has hurt you, Harry?

"Uh, no one has, they've just teased, it's all normal." Harry hurriedly covered up his slipup. "Huh?" Harry's eyes widened with realization. "Hang on, did you just read my mind? Oh wait, how do you know my name?"

"Well, I don't need to read your mind. I am always with you. You and I are currently in your mind right now. All these books surrounding you, is everything your life has been through- all the knowledge, experiences and memories that you've been through, that you have, or will have." The man started walking towards Harry from across the big white room. "And I have been with you for nearly your whole life, All your experiences, all your memories, I've felt them all. Of course, my reaction to them might be different from yours, but what I feel, I've hidden from you, so you don't feel my reactions. My presence was only made aware to you now, because you needed me."

I… need….. him…? No! Not possible. It's just myself, myself and only me forever. I don't need whoever this is. And why's he claiming he knows my… everything? No wait, he might be able to see this. Harry glanced at the man's face. His eyes, hidden by his dark, silky locks, didn't help. His mouth, red and full, made no expression. His nose was centered and the perfect size, eyebrows a high arch, skin- pale and flawless. Damn it Harry, you're supposed to be looking at any clues that show he's reading your mind, not noticing his prettyness.

If the man showed no expression before, he was certainly showing one now. His mouth curved up in the slightest motion, probably amused at Harry's thoughts. "Well, thanks for thinking I'm pretty, but you should say that out loud you know. If i was a normal person, your thoughts would go unnoticed.

"So the blank ones will be filled before I die? And why only this many books? Can I expand this room? Can I add more books to what is already here?" Harry pushed through, trying to forget what the man had seen of his thoughts. He was embarrassed that all his private thoughts were on view to someone he'd only met five minutes ago. Damn it Harry. He realized too late, he'd only opened another weakness. Don't get caught Harry, don't let yourself fall for his tales. Don't let yourself get hurt over your curiosity again.

"Well, I guess you could expand this room and add books by using potions and rituals like the Wit Sharpening Ritual, but that's not the main topic right now." Mystery man seemed to mull over the topic before pulling himself back. "As I said, this is your mind, so this room represents you. At least…. will, one day. This is your first time here, and most people don't get into mind training before 10, so the room is a bit bare from less experience and knowledge. When you grow, this mind will be more like you, probably be more cozy, decorative, and home for you."

He had, at this point, come almost an arm's length of Harry.

Hell, he'd fallen, hook, line, and sinker, drawn in by the fascinating mystery man and his mind tales. To hell with it all, Harry told himself.

"But still, who are you?" Harry pressed. The one question left unanswered, was the one that he most wanted to know.

The man was definitely in Harry's space now. "I'm the one who'll teach you. I'm the one who'll support you." He leaned in. "I'm the one who'll alway be by your side, always." He gently pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek. "My name is…."

* * *

"BOY! Hurry the hell up. I swear if you make me one second late for work, you'll get it tonight, you FREAK!" Vernon bellowed by the entrance.

Right, Harry, had worked hard, read tons of books, advanced himself, and skipped grades, until he was the youngest member of an elite high school. His pre-k class had left him because they were scared- scared of Dudley Dursley's fists and his friends, gang allies more like. Now, he was among high schoolers, much bigger than Dudley, no longer afraid of the consequences of hanging out with Harry. Harry was able to make friends with who he liked, associate and be associated with, among classmates who were on the same level as he was. The only drawback was…

"FREAK!" Vernon yelled again. "What the hell are you doing in there?"

The only drawback was the ride to his school everyday. He had to ride with Vernon for the 15 minute journey to his school. He'd made the point that the school would investigate if he was late to school every single day, and the Dursleys didn't want to pay transportation fees, nor did they want him to stop making breakfast for them, so they conceded. Vernon would drive Harry to school since it was on the way to school, and Harry would walk back himself in time to make dinner. The time in between he was free to do what he wished so long he didn't make fools of the Dursleys.

"FREAK! HURRY THE FUCK UP!" Vernon's rage was clearly discernible.

"I'm coming." Harry replied rushing to the door. Time to get to school, one of his safe havens. He wasn't going to spend more time in this building then absolutely necessary.

* * *

Yup, Chap 2 finished! Thank you to all who have reviewed, followed, and favorited. I humbly ask you to continue doing so! Many of you probably have suspicions to who exactly is Mystery Man- maybe he's not a very big mystery, but I can't do cliffhangers that well. *Smiles and shrugs* Oh well. Now if you're having some confusion, Harry prepares for school, when he rewinds into a memory where he's in pre-k (age 5). Towards the end, he's pulled out of his flashback. Hope that clears any confusion. Alright, once again, I've got sporadic updates, but I'll try my best to update. Criticism appreciate and valued; please don't hate on me if it's not exactly your type. Thank you! And until next time. Cheers! ~Kuro

P.S. I live in America, so if things don't exactly make sense- like pre-k, and the ages in school grades- I apologize.


	3. Priory Leighwood High

**Disclaimer** : Hello, my amazing readers! Thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following. I'm back! Now J. K. Rowling has many more followers and readers than me so, Harry Potter must not belong to me right? *insert sad face* Moving on, sorry in advance for any spelling mistakes. As well as any similarity between this plot and others. Now, I present to you: Chap 3. Enjoy! ~Kuro

* * *

Harry stared out of the window silently as the car sped by buildings. Vernon Dursley wasn't the safest driver, or the most careful, and normally Harry wouldn't have the slightest concern to his well being, but as Vernon was the one driving him to school, Harry wouldn't risk upsetting Vernon any further, lest he crash the car in his rage.

Priory Leighwood High School was on the way, or at least in the same direction of Grunnings Big Drills Company where Vernon worked. It was a few blocks further away, so Vernon let Harry off everyday in the parking lot of Grunnings. Harry would then walk the rest of the way to school.

* * *

His high school was considered an elite one in the midst of Britain. The brightest minds of Britain gathered there to further their study, to learn from respected professionals that spread the knowledge to younger students, and to spend time in the company of other students their age- at the same intellectual level as they were. He was the youngest student attending- at the age of 9. Of course that meant he stuck out like a sore thumb, being much smaller, and shorter than the other kids. The freshmen towered over him, and he was supposed to be a senior. They'd laughed at him when he transferred in- age 8, and a freshman. But he made up his size and age with his brain. He'd gotten the top spot on the ranking board, the first term. Must have been dumb luck, they whispered. He'd gotten top spot again, the second term. Then they'd started to notice, come to appreciate his brains, become in awe of his repriore of knowledge. They asked him for help, gushed over his successes, and slowly respected him, became acquaintances. Not quite friends, only Tom would ever hold that spot, but they were friendly, he was popular, they were nice to him, he was kind to them. He turned out to be well liked, when the threat of Dudley Dursley evaporated into thin air.

Most of his classmates from last year had said goodbye to him at the beginning of the previous summer vacation. "You're too smart for us. We know you'll be able to pass the tests to skip grades. Hell you could probably enter a university at this moment." They'd said to him. It was like a slap in the face, stinging and not at all anticipated. Was this their true feelings all along? Had all the time spent with them been staged, acted, faked? Were all of his classmates harboring secret jealousy towards him?

No! Harry's mind slowly started to shut down, but one of his classmates made it clearer for Harry. "You better remember us, your first friends at high school. Even if you do move up, or graduate, we'll always be friends right?!" John Alec, dark haired, on the basketball team, and generally a jokester, looked unnaturally serious at the moment.

No! They'd wanted him. They included him. They wished to be friends with him. Friends. Harry felt so relieved and just about ready to cry. Friends. For the first time in his life, he had friends! "Yeah! Of course I will! I wouldn't forget about you guys." Harry smiled. A true, full smile. Fuller than anything he'd ever shown before to his classmates. All around him smiles broke out on what had been, moments before, hesitant faces. He'd always remember this group of friends. His first classmates who hadn't been turned against him, who choose to associate and stand with him.

* * *

Harry jumped out of the car and said thanks to Vernon before rushing off to school. No matter what contempt he felt for Vernon, he had to maintain a public persona, to be respected at all times- he'd learned that from his lessons with Tom over pureblood culture. The Dursley might not treat him very nicely, not at all humanely, but they provided great practice to keep calm and not show all the emotions he felt. There had to be one thing they were good for after all, Harry mused.

He slowed to a walk when Priory Leighwood High School was visible, and soon spotted John.

"Harry! Over here" John was waving from where he was surrounded by a small group of his friends. He was no longer their classmates, but they'd promised to stay friends so Harry walked over hesitantly in his mind. The manners drilled into him by Tom insured that in real life, his walk was nothing but the best, a confident, self assured one.

"Hey guys." Harry said to the whole group. He was surrounded by whispers as always- it seemed that even though they were two months into the school year people were still talking over the fact he had scored into senior year. At this point, it was a defense mechanism built into him from pre-k to ignore whatever was said about him, unless it was to his face.

* * *

However, what Harry didn't realize his own popularity at Priory Leighwood High School. He was one of the most well-respected and well-liked guys in his classes. Many of guys wished for his smarts, his charm and his leadership. Most of the girls appreciated his slender body, brilliant green eyes, and bright smiles. He wasn't a bulky, badass type guy, no. Rather he was shining prince charming, always willing to help, and was charming to anyone he met, unless they were rude first. He was pretty much perfect in every way the girls in his class mused. He was top of the class, good at home economics, could draw amazingly, was able to play instruments decently, was good at sports, knew how to have fun, was also responsible, cared for others, could take a joke at his expense, but one thing stood out the most when it came to Harry Potter. One thing that made girls like him, even though he was only 9- his smiles.

Harry Potter was an angel when he smiled. One full blown smile, made you fall for him, made you know that he was happy with you. Several of his current classmates, the senior girls, particularly this group of sworn sisters, Cloe Sudba, Lacey UnMei, and Arona Moira had the fortunate luck of being in the school courtyard the first time Harry smiled. They'd stopped and stared, and would have been quite loudly laughed at, had the rest of the school, close enough to see what was going on, not done the same. It had been weighing on their minds all summer, and then they were surprised to learn that Harry was joining their class to graduate that year. It was already November, and yet they were still in awe of his presence among the seniors.

* * *

"He's quite literally best looking guy in our class," Cloe whispered to her two best friends, Lacey and Arona. Cloe was the shortest of the group at 5' 4, had big blue eyes, and curly blond hair spilling over one shoulder. "Of course, if you excuse the fact that he's way shorter than us."

"He's definitely something else when he smiles." Arona agreed. At 5' 8 she was the tallest of the trio, skin tanned a golden brown, ears pierced, and had straight, brown hair, ending right above her shoulders. Her chocolate brown eyes twinkled when she smiled dreamily, braces showing, and lost in thought about the angel's smile.

"He's so kind too. As well as helpful, smart and amazing at cooking. Did you guys hear that he made Mr. Richards smile when he tasted his meal in Home Econ? Mr. Richards rarely ever smiles." Lacey commented. She was pale, and sprinkled with freckles. On her face was her ever present smile, and her light brown eyes were lost in thought, under the light tan colored frames of her glasses.

"Seriously? I know he's amazing at studies, but his talent transfers over to cooking as well? So, not fair!" Cloe exclaimed.

"Well, he is the…." Arona started.

"...PRINCE CHARMING…" Lacey finished.

All three girls looked each other in the eye, looking very solemn. But then, they burst out laughing. "Of course, he wouldn't be the Harry Potter we know, if he wasn't all that." Cloe said.

"Agreed." replied Lacey.

"I, for one can't wait to see who he'll end up with." Arona cracked a smile. "I mean, he'll go on to university right? He's probably gonna find some girl that's as inhumanely smart and perfect as he is."

"Hmph, what makes you say he won't get me?" Cloe joked in mock offense.

"Hmph, what's to say he'll meet some older professor, and hook up with him?" Lacey continued on in their playful teasing.

"Cuz, one, he's too good for you, two, he's too young for you, and three, you guys are idiots, if anything, he should get me." Arona pretended to be haughty, and raised her chin high, eyes dancing with mirth.

The three broke out in another round of laughter. "But, seriously, what kind of person do you think he'll end up with?" Arona broke her laughter to ask.

"Hmmm, um, I guess, someone that can keep up with him, can teach him, oh, probably someone that'll make him smile." Lacey answered after some deep thinking.

"I think.." Arona hesitated. "I think.. that… he'll find someone as talented as himself, and they'll go on to be famous. Probably… discover a cure or discover a way to exterminate all the murders, or convince everybody to be peaceful, something like that. He'll make it big in this world, and get rid of a thousand little problems that no one's ever noticed before." Arona slowly gained confidence in every word that spilled out of her mouth. It WAS the truth, she decided, because Harry Potter was too good, to stay unnoticed. "He'll probably be snatched up by someone who can view him as him, but also admire his talents. She nodded satisfied in her answer.

"Someone for him to care for, and someone who'll protect him." Cloe answered decisively, no hesitation evident.

* * *

Harry raced to the school library. It was one of the times, he'd shaved off the duties of being a friend to his classmates, and got to enjoy his private time in the library. Books were a rarity in the Dursley household, and what little there were, belonged to Dudley, who shoved them under his bed, into his spare bedroom, or chucked them into the trash. Petunia Dursley, only owned magazines, most on gossip stories of famous celebrities, the latest trending fashions, and the hottest recipes, which she ordered Harry to read and recreate. Vernon Dursley, of course, was a man of few words and when he spoke, it was usually the sort of words, one would learn in elementary and middle school. No one could expect him to have reading material that was complex enough for Harry.

The classes at Priory Leighwood High School, were advanced enough for kids, the normal age, and so should have been extremely difficult for him, Harry supposed. But, instead, Harry wondered, if he should have just accepted the universities that sent him offers instead of opting to get a diploma. The classes were far from bad. No, the teachers, were encouraging and patient, but expected you to perform to at least a high grade. The students were cheerful, competitive, but helped each other out where they could. The building itself, left you with no complaints to distract you from your studies. Priory Leighwood High School, was truly, a perfect high school. But not for him, Harry mourned sadly. Maybe, if he had started here earlier, he would have been satisfied. No matter, Harry told himself, whatevers done is done, no need to mope over what ifs. He hurried on to the library.

Priory Leighwood High School's library did exactly what the rest of the building did, and it multiplied the effect by spades. It encouraged the students to study. Big and spacious, the library took almost the whole of the tenth floor.

At one end, the library closed off in a rectangle, walls, no longer seen, hidden from sight by tall oak bookshelves. Neat orderly rows of books continued on, almost endlessly, lining the walls with colorful titles. Above the bookshelves, paintings covered the space left over. Every painting had a thoughtfully picked out place, none overlapping, but instead fitting together almost like the pieces of a very mismatched puzzle. In the center of the half rectangle carved by the bookshelves, where tables that seated varying amounts, and their corresponding chairs. Students filled the tables, studying, doing homework, and talking with friends.

The other end of the library was a semicircle. From floor to ceiling, replacing the walls, were crystal clear, unblemished panes of glass. Sunlight streamed in, unfiltered, brightening the room. A huge, fluffy, dark blue rug, spanned the room from where the glass started to where it ended. Scattered on the floor, were comfy chairs, bean bags, and even pillows. Students milled around, some socializing, others relaxing in their pillows and reading. Everyone was content, Harry especially; the library always had been a special place to him after all.

"Um, excuse me… can you get t-that book for me, please.." Harry heard someone stutter behind him. He started to turn around, answer already forming on his lips.

"Of course not, ya little squirt." A man was sneering down at a tiny girl. She was somehow, even shorter than he was, Harry realized, almost amused. But, she was cowering, her tiny pale fingers trembling. Hey, wait, he recognized that man. It was one of his fellow seniors, Chad Bransmith, also one of the few people Harry disliked at his school. Chad, had close cropped black hair, squinty black eyes, a never ending frown, and had some muscle to his bulky frame. He'd been suspended two days into the start of the school for fighting with other kids in the neighborhood, and given a strong warning about not letting it happen again. Today was probably his first day back, and already he was causing trouble. "Who would do anything for you, you little wimp, ain't nothing, but someone to have fun with." Chad leered down at the little, must have been freshmen girl.

Harry stepped into his path. The library was his safe place. Always had been, always would be. He'd let someone else make it thier safe place as well. He wasn't selfish, after all. "Excuse me, but I believe the book I want is here, and that you are currently disturbing other library users." he told Chad. It was true after all, heads were starting to turn, books put down, whispers starting to form.

"Hah, you little punk? Do you know who I am?" Chad spit into Harry's face, narrowly missing, as Harry had turned to take his book.

"I assumed you were a fellow senior, Chad Bransmith, but maybe I was wrong in my assumption. Are by any chance trying to imitate him, then?" Harry replied evenly, almost innocently.

"You tryna make a fool outta me, squirt?" Chad was attempting to do his best to look intimidating, but to Harry all he looked like was child throwing a temper tantrum because things hadn't gone his way. "Little wimp like you trying to be big, and all savior-like to your fellow wimp-mate. What class are you in, wimp?" He jeered at Harry, teeth bared in an unfriendly smile.

"I believe that only you can make the biggest fool out of yourself. I'm Harry Potter, senior, class AAA." Harry showed no emotion on his face, except for the slightest flicker of annoyance, and all the rest impassiveness. "I also believe that the librarian behind you would like you to either leave before more people are disturbed, or to quiet yourself down."

Sure enough, one of the library's more sterner librarians was standing directly behind Chad. Mr. Chen pushed his black glasses frame up his nose and cleared his throat. "That's right. Mr. Bransmith, please take your violent urges and push them into the trash. The library is not a place to make fun of fellow students, nor is it the place to start fights. You would do well to remember that. Please, escort yourself out, and only return when you feel that no violent urges remain in you, lest you gain another suspension, and possibly expulsion." The words were soft, but the aura radiating off it was anything but. Even at two inches shorter than Chad's 6'3, Mr. Chen gave off a much more intimidating aura.

Chad grumbled noisily, and lumbered out of the library. Harry turned to the girl who was no longer crying. Her hazel eyes were red rimmed, and mess black hair ended at around her waist. She was indeed shorter than him, but only by a centimeter or two. "Hey, are you alright?" Harry asked gently.

"Y-yeah, I a-am. T-thanks for a-asking." She stuttered and flinched.

"Did you need any help getting a book before?"

"Oh, yeah, c-could you get that book for me?" She asked shyly, gaining more confidence, pointing at a book that Harry could just barely reach on tip-toes.

"Sure." Harry replied, stretching his arms out of grab the book off the shelf.

"Thanks for s-saving m-me, I-I'm M-maria L-lopez from class AAB, f-freshman." She stuttered out softly.

"Anytime." Harry grinned and handed her the book. "Well, gotta get going. See you around Maria." He turned and headed for another bookshelf. Now that he had finished helping the girl, he really needed to savor his library time. Might as well get those books on psychology and that fantasy novel he saw before, making a beeline toward his goal.

* * *

Hours later, Harry cursed. He'd finished his fantasy novel, ages ago, and was now reading the psychology textbook he'd found, when he noticed the time. It was 5:00. Students were still milling around in the library, but he should have started heading home 30 minutes ago. It took him around 45 minutes to get home, and the Dursleys expected food to be on the table by 6. It took him longer than 15 minutes to cook dinner, Harry calculated. Fine, he would use _that_ , he decided. Putting back his two books, and gathering his things, he rushed out of the library and raced down the stairs as elegantly as he could. Exiting the building, Harry made his way out into the street, which was still brightly lit for a early-November afternoon. Harry made his way towards one of the smaller streets, where less people used in comparison to the main road.

Looking around, Harry found no one in sight in the more shadowed side street. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Envisioning a small grove, hidden away from the world by trees, Harry wished himself to appear back. Crack. A small, nearly unnoticeable crack sounded and Harry disappeared from his previous location.

He reappeared in the place he had just saw in his mind. It was a small clearing, hardly ever used, and noticed. It was part of the park, that was only two blocks away from the Dursley's house. Most times, Harry was the only visitor, and today was no different. Harry dusted himself off, and started walking towards the Dursley residence. Time for another night in hell. He could only hope that Tom would be waiting for him again.

* * *

He sat alone, in a dark green room and added another sigh to his ever growing number of sighs that he had sighed. The night before, he had told Harry, that he would get him out of the Dursley's care. In a week, to be exact. After Harry had left, he went into his room to berate himself without Harry noticing.

How in, seven high hells, was he going to do that? How the fuck was he going to keep his promise? Add another sigh to the list.

Oh, he knew how, he had to find his original and somehow convince him to get off the killing spree and collect Harry. And how the shit, was he to do that?

Easy, talk to Youth, the oldest. The most arrogant of them all, until compared to the original. Piece of cake. Walk in the park. Nothing to be upset about.

Fuck. Harry was going to hate him. His Harry. His caring, bi-polar Harry. So kind, and at times, so sadistic. Fuck. Harry was going to murder, scratch that, torture him. Ugh. He stood up, and brushed himself off. Off to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire County, where the oldest slept.

To hell with it all, he told himself. He hoped he would meet kind, loving Harry after he was finished, but it was just as likely cruel Harry would seek retribution. Fuck it. First he needed to meet Youth and convince him, then find that bastard, knock some sense into him, and save Harry.

Kindness opened the black door and stept out. He spun on the spot, and dissolved, disappearing into nothingness. Wiltshire County it was.

* * *

Chap 3 finished! I hope that it was enjoyable, and ask all of you readers to continue to read, review and favorite, if you so wish. I appreciate the reviews, and any criticism will be valued as well. Please don't hate me or my story if you dislike this plot. *Hides behind pillows* Now, I'm sorry for any confusion at the end. To make things just a tiny bit clearer, Youth and Kindness are not mis-capitalized. They are used as names, or nicknames. Hope that helps. To those of you, who like ancient greek mythology, I've included a very, very hidden part of it in this chapter~ any guesses? Hint: names change but numbers, are significant to magic, Tom Riddle Jr., and to my stories. Again, Sporadic Updates is my middle name- (soon, I'll have enough middle names to best Albus Dumbledore)- and so see you next time. ~Kuro


	4. Darkness in Hell

**Disclaimer** : Harry… Potter.. sniffles.. Doesn't.. Belong… sob.. To.. Me.. there I said it, now let me cry in peace.. *runs off crying* Sorry about any spelling errors and anything that looks like it's copied, I promise you I didn't mean to. Thank you, to all the amazing readers, who read, reviewed, followed and favorited! Now let's start. ~Kuro

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Harry was pissed. He was angry. He was downright murderous. He was going to kill that bastard he had trusted, had poured his heart out to. He gave everything he had to Tom, hell his whole life, Tom knew every moment of it. And what had he left him with? Hell. He'd left him with hell.

Harry was angry at Tom. That much was a given. But most of all, he was heartbroken. His sorrow rushed into his heart, pumped through his blood, till his whole body was wracked with sadness. Every waking moment, trapped in grief, every sleep, trapped in a nightmare. You'll never be good enough.. Never enough to be loved.. Everyone lies to you.. No one loves you.. Everyone uses you.. You are worthless… His consciousness whispered to him in the sickly sweet way, slowly poisoning him, damning him to an eternity in hell.

Of course, it didn't show on the outside. Nothing indicated that Harry was in a bad mood. No one suspected anything of the freak at Dursley residence, nor did anything unusual occur at Priory Leighwood High. Of course, on the inside, Harry raged, and not quite cried. He couldn't bring himself to tears- the rage took its place.

His first friend, his mentor, his guide, his everything, Tom was gone. Tom had upped and left the night after he made his promise. He'd promised he would get Harry out of the Dursley's reach. And then he disappeared. It was fine at first, a little bit lonesome because Tom would normally speak with him everyday, but fine. Tom had promised. And so he would. Harry relaxed. But a week had passed. Harry brushed it off as small delays.

Another week passed, and Harry began to worry. Something was probably holding Tom back. Maybe a pesky disturbance, some small fry who believed they could get the better of Tom.

November fell, as did the snow, and December started. Harry started to panic. With no word from Tom, no clues or signals he'd left behind, not a trace of the man, Harry worried something did get the better of him. It was hard to imagine, something or someone with more power than Tom, but who knew? No. Harry steered himself away from those thoughts. Those thoughts were the ones that hurt him. No, he told himself. He would have faith in Tom. He would have confidence in Tom's promise.

Half a month had passed, without word, or sight of Tom. Harry busied himself into school work. He threw himself into his chores. He did everything Petunia commanded him to do. He practiced his masks, his manners, and his mind training. He exercised in the school gym. He did everything. Anything would do, as long as it kept him from brooding over Tom.

Another week had passed, and Harry started losing his sadness, or rather, started gaining his anger. Tom promised. He had from the start. He said he would keep all his promises. He said he would always be there. Lair. He lied. He had gone and left Harry. Unfulfilled promises were the only thing left of him. Harry knew from the start, not to let him in, but he had, and now he was paying the price. Slowly killing himself with the one weakness he had taken on. Tom was so good to him before, so amazing. He had seemed like everything Harry ever wanted, ever needed, but then, most temptations were. He'd chosen his weakness, but his weakness hadn't chosen him. And now he was paying the price. Tom had left him for good, he was sure of it.

But, in the end, it was no one's fault but his own. He had known the risks of befriending Tom. He had known that one day, inevitable Tom would leave him. That one day, Tom would no longer care about him- no longer want him. Nobody would… Tom had just lasted longer than most. He knew the risks, chose to take them, but he had forgotten the truth, had fallen into the worst, most painful trap.

Hope. He had dared to hope. Dared to hope, that the only truth he knew, that everyone would leave him, was a lie. The Dursleys had always said many cruel things to him, that he was a freak, that his parents were freaks, that he was dirty. The'd laughed at him, mocking him. "Who would ever love you, you no good freak, they'll all realize your freakishness and leave." Petunia would screech at him. But once Tom came, that truth slowly melted. He'd dared to hope that Tom would stay with him. Hope had stabbed him in the back, it's blade, coldly shining, his heart, slowly bleeding. Tom had left him. Everyone had left him.

Harry wanted to rip out his heart, without a heart, surely he wouldn't feel any pain right? No, he would die, his body losing its ability to function, but at least he wouldn't be able to feel right?

"BOY!"something bellowed from outside his cupboard and Harry flinched. "You, fucking lazy, nothing, disrespectful freak, how dare you not answer me? I've been calling you for the past five minutes now." Something opened the door of the cupboard, and a big beefy hand groped around in the darkness for Harry.

Shocked still, Harry blinked at the hand, not quite processing what had happened.

Vernon's hand clamped on Harry's arm and his piggy face appeared in the doorway, beady little eyes filled with rage. "I think this deserves a beating, don't you, freak?" His sneer only intensified as Harry started to realize what was going on. He pulled Harry through the small opening of the cupboard, and threw him onto the living room floor.

"Well, well, well, the freak has finally shown us he thinks he's better than us, normal people. Too bad, that's not true isn't it freak?" Vernon's voice was almost sickly sweet. He approached Harry, belt in hand. Grabbing Harry, Vernon raised him to eye level and smirked. "I'll beat some sense into you, freak."

He ripped apart Harry's tattered hand-me-downs, and threw Harry, face front onto the ground. "I'll teach you that us normal people, are much better than the freaks of society." The first hit stung but didn't break skin. As did the second, third and fourth hit. Harry stared at the ground impassively, closing off his emotions. He wouldn't give Vernon the satisfaction. However on the fifth hit, a shallow cut engraved his skin, made by the metal belt buckle. Blood dripped from the cut, in a small amount, though Harry knew he'd lose quite a bit of blood before this session was over- Vernon was quite enraged today.

"You lazy freaks will never succeed at anything. You'll be the dredges of society, homeless, poor, drunks. That's right boy. Follow in your parent's footsteps. They were also good for nothing freaks, drunks- died when they couldn't hold their alcohol when driving." Vernon lectured all while keeping a steady rhythm on whipping. Blood, at this point, evolved from a mere trickle, into something more steady, a lot more blood was dripping from his back, and onto the floor.

"You'll be left behind, once people know your true worth. No one will stand to look at you, let alone love you. We normal, people take you in out of the goodness of our hearts, trying to reform you so you won't be so freaky. But no matter what we do, you'll always be a freak. You'll always be abandoned." Vernon sneered down at the bloody form of his nephew. He stepped back observing the welts, and the cuts, the stream of blood slowly making its way down Harry's back and onto the floor. "Make sure you remember this lesson freak. Now clean the floor." Vernon kicked Harry's limp body, and then turned heel and left, his bloody belt clattering to the floor.

Harry tried to slowly lift himself up into a sitting position. His back protested and groaned with the effort, but gingerly, he managed to lift himself into a slightly more reasonable position. His side ached, but something in his heart cried more. He'd always be abandoned. How true. He'd never be loved. How fitting. In that silent,dimly lit, blood covered living room he sat. He took in a shaking, shuddery breath. For the first time in years, Harry began to cry, silent tears streaming down his face.

* * *

Chap 4 done! Please don't kill me! Review, favorite, and follow if you wish, just don't hate me- *insert incredibly sad face here*- and criticism appreciated. Sporadic updates and all that, so don't tear your hair out. Til next time. ~Kuro


	5. Bloody Harry

**Disclaimer:** Oh my gosh, everyone I am soo sorry that I didn't notice before I posted. Thank you for pointing out I accidentally uploaded the same chapter twice. Sorry for the delay, and thank you all once again. I'm pretty sure you guys all have realized it by now, but Harry Potter does not belong to me. Only the plot does. Thank you for your patience and here is the real chapter five. ~Kuro

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A week before Christmas and all things were silent, not a mouse was stirring inside of Harry's cramped cupboard, but that was of course because no mice would have been allowed into Petunia's house anyway, neat freak that she was. On the other side of his cupboard door, Vernon and Dudley were sitting on the sofa, which was probably moaning at their combined weight, lazing about and watching television. Petunia had decided that she would make lunch as Harry was serving extended confinement time inside his little prison- of course that meant he wouldn't get lunch either, but it was normal at this point.

"Dudley, my sweet baby, is there anything you'd like mummy and daddy to get you for Christmas? You've been such a good boy, Santa will get you almost anything you wish for." Petunia said in a sickeningly sweet voice. Vernon grunted in agreement.

"Anything, mum?" Dudley confirmed.

"Anything you wish for, Santa will grant honey."

Wishing? Wishing didn't get you anywhere. it just made you undeniably sadder- when he was three he remembered the Dursleys had locked him in the cupboard as to not do freaky things at precious Dudley's birthday. He sat alone in that small room- big to him at the time- back leaning against the doorway. The festivities and music poured through the small crack that separated the door from the floor, nothing to peek through, but enough to tease and tempt him with reminders of parties that he'd never received. He could hear someone running, someone else was giggling, their pounding footsteps rattling in his brain. He had closed his eyes and wished that they would be a happy family together, the Dursleys would say that they wanted him, loved him as part of the family, that the Dursleys would become the perfect family. Years passed and Harry realized his wish had been granted. The Dursleys were a happy family. But nothing in the world was free, so it made sense that wishes weren't either. Harry was the price, the sacrifice.

Vernon Dursley was a high tempered man. He had a short fuse, and big violent tendencies. If not for Harry, Vernon might have abused Petunia and Dudley. But Harry was there to take all the pain, Vernon's personal punching bag. Once the man took out his frustrations on Harry, he returned to Petunia and Dudley, the epitome of loving husband and father.

Petunia Dursley got the perfect housekeeper she always wanted- someone to do the chores, keep the house shining, someone to yell and vent at whenever and wherever she wanted. The bonus? He came free of charge and there was no one to seek retribution if he was hurt. His housekeeping kept the Dursley reputation sleek and shiny, because of course, no seemed to notice that it was he who kept the garden thriving, he who made the house spotless, he who made the delicious family meals. No- Petunia Dursley is the perfect housekeeper, and wife, so gentle, kind, and talented, they'd whisper. Harry would never get the credit, but the Dursleys did.

Then there was Dudley Dursley, the pride and joy of his parents. He only gave his parents more joy every time he earned Harry another punishment. Instead of picking on other children, Harry took the position of personal punching bag, and therefore avoided any encountering any trouble with other children who actually had parents to support them. The Dursley name was clean and pristine, marked down as an elite family, who even extended their generous ways to taking care of their orphaned nephew. As long as no one figured out Harry's home conditions, and no did ever seem to notice, the Dursley's would enjoy being the talk of the town as the perfect family. Awful Cinderella story he was trapped in, really.

Harry snorted inwardly, awful cinderella story. Awful Cinderella Story! Harry laughed almost insanely. He'd be a real Cinderella, alright, only if Tom kept his promise to save him. Who was he kidding? He had crushed that hope a week ago, he told himself firmly. Tom had forgotten him, abandoning him, thrown him to the wolves. He'd made his promise in early October. It was now approaching Christmas. A few more days, and he'd have spent another year in the Dursley's 'loving' care. Why? Why had he given such trust to Tom? Why did he have even a shred of hope left in the man who vanished. Because you're a stupid fool Harry, he told himself.

-Hours Later-

'Boy! Start cooking dinner. The Malfoys will be coming round at 8, and I expect a feast to be done by then. If anything is done wrong, I will skin your hide, after their gone." Vernon threatened. "They are one of the richest families in England, and I expect to be signing a deal with them by the end of tonight. I had better get by promotion by the New Year's, or you are dead meat."

Harry scoffed in his head. Like i wasn't dead meat the first time you laid eyes on me. Wait. He mentioned the Malfoys… No. It couldn't possibly be. There was no way on earth. Tom had taught him about the most influential people, his kind. The Malfoys were near the highest ranking ones. He told him that Narcissa Malfoy was a queen, elegant, graceful, calm headed, and hosted the most attended balls of the year. Lucius Malfoy, was the male counterpart of his wife- cold, high and mighty. Their son Draco, would be about Harry's age, give or take a few months. No, it wouldn't happen. Malfoy was an uncommon name yes, but not an ultra rare one. It was probably some snobbish muggle trying to sound aristocratic.

Harry sighed. He thought he was over Tom and his games, but apparently, even when he left, Harry was still his toy. Getting up, he walked towards the kitchen to start preparing for the night.

Washing his hands, he took out the ingredients he was left with, steak, potatoes, salad, and assorted fruits. Deftly whipping out one of the kitchen knives, one of the more narrower ones, he made slices in the meat and rubbed sauce inside the small slits. Doing the same to the other sides, he covered them and set the potatoes to boil. Then he washed the salad and fruit, chopped it into biteable pieces and arranged it into rose shapes, decorating the silver platters. Placing the platters back in the fridge to chill, Harry sat down to wait for the sauce to seep into the meat. Leaning against the kitchen wall, he closed his eyes mentally sighing at his pathetic self.

He had put trust in Tom for almost four years. He had lasted longer than all of his other acquaintances and schoolmates. They all had drifted apart, some point, none lasting more than two years. He'd believed Tom was different. Tom had promised that he was different. He was different alright. His difference was magical, two years of difference, but he had been only too similar to all the others in the end. After all, who would want to stay with a prisoner in chains? Harry was shackled, a small scraggly bird locked in rusted cage, shut in the dusty old corners of the attic, unneeded, unwanted, just baggage. All the others were free, pure, shining little birdies. They had people who loved them, a place to stay. They were welcome to visit Harry of course, but never to stay, no one would waste their life on a prisoner. Tom- Tom had been different, Harry was sure, so sure that he would stay forever. It wasn't to be. Fairy tales had their happy endings, reality was a just a bitch.

Quickly cooking the steak, and whipping the mashed potatoes in shape, Harry served out portions onto different platters, two for the Malfoys, and three for the Dursleys. One imaginary platter, for the boy who would sit quietly in his cupboard pretending not to exist. He opened the fridge door intent on taking out the salad he had prepared, when he heard a crack outside of the house. Shrugging it off Harry had just finished placing the salad bowl on the table when Vernon stampeded down the stairs.

"BOY! WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT NO FREAKISHNESS IN THIS HOUSE? YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT TRYING TO BITE THE HAND THAT TOOK YOU IN AND FED YOU. TRYING TO RUIN MY DINNER ARE WE? We'll see about this after the Malfoys leave tonight." Vernon snarled.

"Yes sir." Harry barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes in front of Vernon, but somehow he must have caught it anyways.

"Huh, you punk, trying to get smart with me? This is why nobody will ever stay with you, your attitude must drive them miles away. Even your pathetic little imaginary friends won't stay. If it weren't for us civilized, normal, people, you would have been out crawling with your nasty little beggar friends out on the streets." Vernon sneered. "The only people who'll ever hang around a worthless orphan like you, would be people who pity your small insignificant existence, and laugh at you behind your back, making jokes about how stupid you are."

Harry seethed. That wasn't true! His friends from school had stood by him. They had laughed together, shared the good and bad together, ate lunch together, made projects together. He had known them. They weren't the type of people to be backstabbers. Still, there was little point in defending them now when Vernon went off on his rant. He bit his tongue and kept silent.

Vernon remained oblivious to Harry's state of mind and continued on his tirade. The only friends you'll ever have are your imaginary ones. Vernon smirked. "Small pathetic cowards being bossed around by you little freak. I'll bet anything, the only reason they haven't ran away is because their too stupid to think like a remotely civilized being. Of course that's to be expected when you only have the capacity of the creator. Vernon grinned nastily.

Harry snapped. Tom had given up on him sure. But he sure as fuck hadn't lost his memories of Tom. Tom was never a coward, never weak, and never stupid. He was perfect, and nobody had the right to insult him especially if that somebody was a fat pig with intelligence only surpassing that of a cows.

Harry's eyes changed just a bit. His right eye stayed bright emerald green, blazing with unshed fury. However his left eyes darkened, green turning into dark red, brightening again into a more ruby shade. His shoulder length slightly wavy hair moved slightly as if there was a small breeze. Time seemed to stop inside the kitchen room. The air was stifled, the noise silenced.

Then he broke. Lashing out with his magic, paper thin cuts appeared all over Vernon's body. Spider web like lines spewed out blood, soaking through his white shirt and navy tie.

"I should have some fun with you. Turn you into a wimpy little coward begging for mercy. Then I'll pity you for being a spineless fool." Harry's voice was eerily melodic, a death like tune. "I should boss you around, torture you, until you don't resemble even the most primal of beings."

Urging his magic to do so, Harry wandlessly held Vernon in place against the wall opposite him. "Let's start with the fingers and toes shall we." Harry sliced each finger off, one at a time, leaving enough space in between to let the pain sink in. Blood splattered over his clothes, but Harry was too intent on his revenge to care much. After slicing off the toes, Harry walked over the the stove, and lit it, letting the fire roar. Grabbing Vernon's hands and feet, Harry held them in the fire, letting the fire cauterize his wounds.

"Wouldn't want you dying too soon. You know, I was hoping to do this a few years later actually. Like get through all my university classes and get my degrees. That way it would be less complicated. But now works perfectly fine with me. It's only an advancement of two to three years, not much of a big deal." Harry shrugged, caressing one of the cuts on Vernon's face. The cut was only dripping drops of blood, but most of the severe damage had been fixed already.

He let go of his magic, dropping Vernon in the process, who slumped ro the floor face first. Petunia's spotless kitchen floor had turned from white to red, and the dinner he made was covered with a sauce layer of blood.

"Well, Vernon, seems like you won't get a promotion this year. Best luck next year, if you're still alive by then." Harry smirked, slowly coming off his torture high.

Harry spun around to go for his cupboard and his few meagre belongings when he noticed the people standing next to the doors. One was a lady, her curves elegant and enticing, welcoming, but her face cold, and was that slight awe he saw there? Next to her was a man, tall, broad shouldered, and looked regal and elegant. Both screamed of money. Both were _his_ type. The Malfoys. Tom hadn't given up on him after all!

* * *

Chapter Five Finished. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following and favoriting. Any criticism you might have is greatly appreciated. Anyone have guesses to Harry's eye color? - post in the reviews. Until next time. ~Kuro


	6. Malfoy Manor

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and no, I don't have the funds to buy it, so sadly the characters aren't mine. The plot is however and thanks to all the reviewers, followers and favorites. Its been a long time, and probably will be an even longer time, but for now enjoy Chapter 6

~Kuro

* * *

Crack. The sound reverberated across the dreadfully mundane town, where he said they could find him. It was a quiet little town, nothing out of the ordinary, and probably nothing out of the ordinary was to happen for another hundred years.

The couple, out of place in the plain little neighborhood, were seemingly unfazed by their dull surroundings- outwardly that is.

Lucius Malfoy was a high standards man, only the best would ever be suited toward him and his precious wife and his son. He had been sent by his master to this particular town to pick up a magical child-that was all he had been told- that and that he would be able to spot him instantly, or rather "feel him instantly"; his master's precise words. He didn't understand. What the hell was he supposed to feel in this so disgustingly mundane muggle town. There was a small trace of untapped magic, probably a squib within the vicinity, but certainly his master had't sent him here for a squib? If there was something magical enough to catch his master's attention then why the hell didn't he feel anything magical?

Narcissa Malfoy was a well bred pureblood. She had dignity, grace and elegance in spades. She had beauty and charm and intelligence and she knew it. If anything was to catch her master's attention, then it was sure to have been an extraordinary magical being, because half-blood or not, nothing muggle had ever graced his radar, except for maybe large muggle world wars. But then magicals were likely to also be in a war at the same time so that might have been why.

But the thought of anything magic in the plain neighborhood was a horrible one. The neighborhood looked like nothing besides the ordinary, respectable towns you would find elsewhere. But the feeling was suffocating, the air still and motionless, the cold stinging the skin, even the snow was perfect, a straight unbroken layer except for a trail of footprints. Everything in the town was perfect. Too perfect. There was something wrong with the neighborhood, she was sure of it. She was grateful that she had chosen to leave Draco at home with their house elves; she couldn't ever imagine subjecting her precious child to this magic suppressing town.

"Best to get going then. We should find him by sundown at least, right, if he truly is magical." Lucius murmured to his wife.

"Or her." Narcissa added. "But yes, we should get going. I don't like the feeling of this town."

Just then a huge wave of magic assaulted their senses. It left them trembling unconsciously from the raw magic. Just as it had came it quickly muted but there was no mistaking the direction it had originated from.

Both Malfoys turned and started moving toward a medium size house that looked identical to the other houses. Bypassing the driveway then turned to face the door of Number 4 Privet Drive.

"Alohomora." Narcissa murmured, quietly unlocking the front door. She pushed it quietly and stepped into the entranceway of the house. There seemed to be small thrums of magic in the room to her left, so she followed her senses, approaching cautiously, and rounding the corner to open the door. Lucius followed, closing the front door gently as he went. The smell of burnt meat permeated the air. Not used to such non fragrant smells, Narcissa covered her nose and therefore masked her small gasp.

" ...want you dying too soon. You know, I was hoping to do this a few years later actually. Like get through all my university classes and get my degrees. That way it would be less complicated. But now works perfectly fine with me. It's only an advancement of two to three years, not much of a big deal." A small figure stood at the end of the Kitchen by the sink. His back was turned toward the kitchen door so the Malfoys remained unnoticed for the present. Fluttering in front of the boy was a was a fat male human. His finger and toe joints littered the kitchen floor, swimming in puddles of blood. Whatever was still on his body was charred and blackened. Thin slices covered his body and painted it red.

The man dropped to the floor without warning, and the boy's voice spoke again. "Well, Vernon, seems like you won't get a promotion this year. Best luck next year, if you're still alive by then." Then the small figure spun around, and the Malfoy's caught their first glimpse of…. Harry Potter?!

Their lord and sent them to fetch Harry Potter? Harry Potter's magic had caught their master's attention, even when he had been hidden away oh so carefully by Dumbledore? Well, there was certainly no question about his magic, that was certainly powerful, and would only continue to grow as he matured, but how had their master found the child who had all but vanished from the face of the magical world?

Narcissa shivered inwardly. Harry Potter could be recognized immediately, but yet he was so different from the children's books that had been created. Fiction or not, one would expect that their pictures should at least resemble him right? Jet black hair ended around his shoulder in small waves with some red highlights mixed in; he was lucky enough to avoid the misfortune of the messy Potter hair. Round wiry black frames covered his eyes, but even through them the unmistakable eyes of Lily Evans could be seen. He was at a reasonable height for a nine year old to be at, but more towards the shorter side. His body was slender, and at the moment dripping blood. Not his own of course- but that only added to his image. His face sported a cold, cruel look, one that made Narcissa doubly glad, she had not brought her precious Draco with her. His face would be burned into her nightmares, she was sure of it- that sadistic smirk held in torturing sessions, before this boy, only her master had been able to pull off this look. Attaching a pair of black wings to the boy would only add to his image of fallen angel- devastatingly beautiful, but sinfully dangerous.

Suddenly the boy's face seemed to brighten up, at least a little bit, Lucius wasn't quite so sure with the boy he had been sent to fetch.

"Harry Potter?.." He asked tentatively.

"Yes." The boy, newly dubbed Harry Potter replied. His face seemed to light up. "Did Tom send you?" He asked hopefully.

'Tom? Wait that must be my Lord. But how does this boy know my master, wait scratch that how is he so familiar, or rather why has my lord allowed Potter to call him as such?' Lucius wondered.

However the biggest question running through Narcissa's mind still was 'Where on earth did my Lord find this boy, who was totally masked to the world, until he used magic? All she could sense before was the small faint squib magic- how was this boy able to mask his magic so completely, making him seem as if he were a muggle?'

"Ah yes," Narcissa wandered out of her musings. "Yes, our Lord did indeed send us here to take you with us back home. I am Narcissa Malfoy, and that is Lucius, my husband."

"I'm Harry Potter, but you know that, and the man before was Vernon. You're taking me to where Tom is, right?" Harry confirmed, hints of a true smile starting to form on his face

"Yes, we'll be going back to Malfoy Manor, where our lord currently resides. Do you wish to get any of your belongings before you go?" Narcissa said.

"Just my clothes, and my books." Harry smiled gently. "How are we getting there?"

"Through Apparition" Lucius spoke up. "The quicker we're gone from this house, the better."

"Okay," Harry replied rushing out of the kitchen and towards his cupboard where his clothes and note remained. Nearing the entrance he realized that the day locks were still on the door, and without thinking too much into it waves his hand willing the locks to vanish.

Behind him the Malfoys mentally gaped as the couldn't do so in public-terribly uncouth of them. But perhaps he shouldn't feel so awed, Lucius mused, the boy had released off a spike of magic larger then what most 4th years could produce at their fittest. Even so it was a wandless and wordless spell that seemed to take no effort! The boys would certainly live to be a powerful man, that is, if his master let him live long enough. With Harry's reaction, it would seem that He and his lord were incredibly close, or his lord was pretending to be incredibly close to the young Potter.

* * *

Harry rustled around his meagre belongings. He quickly folded Dudley's rags into some resemblance of neatness and put that on top of his stack of notes and books that he wrote throughout his years of schooling. He scurried out of the cramped, dusty space and back into the kitchen where the Malfoys were patiently waiting.

"What is that?" Narcissa asked disdainfully, gazing toward Dudley's castoffs.

"My clothes." Harry replied following her line of sight.

"Discard them." Narcissa told him firmly. "You will get new clothes at the Manor. No such objects of muggle filth will be allowed to pass through our wards."

Harry shrugged and dropped the clothes onto Vernon's mutilated face where they lay soaking up the drying blood.

"Alright, we need to get into the yard before we apparate to Malfoy Manor. You can side along with me." Lucius volunteered.

The three exited the Dursley house and stood in the snow covered yard. Lucius took Harry by the shoulders gripping him firmly, and Harry held on to his stack of books. Narcissa stood a little way behind them, and then all three spun on the spot and disappeared with a crack, minutes before Petunia came back from her grocery shopping- blissfully unaware about the freakish occurrence that had just happened in her home.

The three landed in a snow filled country. The air was crisp and cold, and yet pleasantly fresh. In the nearby distance. Harry could see a towering manor. It was grand and was the only visible thing in sight. They were standing outside of a massive gate which blocked the walkway to the front door. Either side of the walkway was covered in snow, but had perhaps in springtime been lush gardens. The pathway however was clear and free of snow. There was a something at the main door, but Harry couldn't make out who it was whether due to his poor eyesight or the Malfoy wards obscured anybody out side from view, he didn't know.

It seemed that it had been the wards, when Lucius allow his entry into the Malfoy estate moments later. He stepped through the gates, dimly noting the small flush of magic as the wards passed his skin and deemed him a friend. Harry was able to instantly recognize the figure hovering by the door. It was his Tom. Black hair, ruby eyes, elegant face, handsome body, there was simply no mistaking it. It didn't matter that Tom should have been non physical as he existed in Harry's head, but still the man standing over there was definitely Tom.

Harry ran up the pathway dropping his books in his haste to get to the man who was his best friend and mentor. He launched himself at the man, knocking him down and wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he could. Small tears began to form in the corners of his eyes but he burrowed into Tom's chest to hide it.

* * *

Voldemort stood by the entrance door waiting for the Malfoys to finish their mission, at the insistence of Kindness, and the taunts of Youth. Why did did he have to wait in the cold and snow again, oh yea, because Potter would be so much more relieved to see a familiar face then just a mansion. He groaned in his mind. Being immortal using horcruxes honestly wasn't worth it if pieces of your soul suddenly have a mind of their own and all his knowledge. Luckily enough for him, at least horcruxes were linked together by the soul and couldn't turn on one another, who knows what Kindness might have turned into otherwise in Potter's head for nine long years. He shuddered, probably an even more annoying sap then he was now but also and annoying sap that would wish to kill him.

He looked up toward the gate when he heard two small pops. The Malfoys and Potter materialized and moments later, Malfoy Senior opened the gates. What he didn't expect was a black haired ball of energy to come flying towards him. Unprepared, Lord Voldemort fell down, and took Potter with him. He felt small arms go around his waist and head bury itself in his chest.

"You kept your promise." A muffled voice leaked out. It sounded so full of joy, that Voldemort couldn't bear to say anything sarcastic to Potter. He instead sighed and gingerly placed his arms around Potter's head.

"Yes. I did." He said quietly. The boy was no doubt talking about the promise that Kindness had given him.

"Did you get hurt? You took so long, I was afraid that something injured you." Potter's voice was small and was that hints of anxiousness he heard? The boy was actually worried about him, Lord Voldemort, the one who had murdered his parents? His heart softened slightly, it must have been the work of Kindness, Voldemort reassured himself, because Dark Lords were not nice and sympathetic. He had turned his kindness into a horcrux to get rid of it, not for it to come back in the most unfortunate of times.

"No I didn't get injured Harry, it just took a longer time then I predicted. I'm sorry about the delay." He squeezed just a bit harder, putting a little pressure in their mutual hug? Or was it one sided turned two sided hug? Voldemort shook his head. Seriously, he would need to do something about the annoying mental voices from Kindness and Youth. "Come inside Harry, it's warmer in the house."

Harry sat up, his tears stained dried. "Okay!" He replied happily a smile lighting up his face.

He was an angel.

A fucking angel was straddling him. Voldemort's heart may have twinged just a bit more than what was necessary to deliver blood around his body. Not that he would ever admit it of course.

* * *

The Malfoys hurried up the pathway, not quite running, but not taking a midnight stroll around the gardens either. Harry had upped and ran, not away from their Lord, but instead towards him. And their he was currently, lying on their lord, and if he wasn't,t mistaken, the boy was actually hugging his Lord. Lucius wasn't sure whether he should hurry before his Lord starting blowing out the curses, or stall and leave the two to their devices.

Narcissa made the choice for him. She stopped to pick up the notebooks that had been abandoned, when Harry had started running toward her Lord. Mildly curious about what was inside, she found a book that had been left open by the wind. On the lines were clear letters, each one precise and orderly. It seemed to be organized like some of the textbooks of magic, only it was about a muggle subject called AP Biology. She shrugged and moved on, and chanced upon one of Harry's other notes, this one about magic. Genuinely curious, she scanned the page. This one seemed to be about Charms. Narcissa was shocked, the charm in question being described on the page was a fifth year charm. Where on earth had Harry gotten the information about this? The certainly didn't have any magical shops in the muggle town he was living in.

Closing the book, and vowing to question another time, Narcissa collected the rest of the books and walked back to where her husband had a small stack of books himself. They finally started walking toward their Lord and Harry, when the noticed too late, that instead of hugging their Lord, the boy now seemed to be straddling him?!

"Ahem" Narcissa coughed gently after ten seconds of awkward silence from the Malfoy's end. "We should go into the manor before one of you catches a cold, my lord, Harry."

Harry jumped up surprised at the noise. He had not noticed the Malfoys at all behind him, being too enthralled with Tom. "Oh sure! Let's go." He smiled cheerfully. "Let's go in Tom." He held out a hand to the man still on the floor. Voldemort "Tom" numbly grabbed the hand and swiftly pulled himself up.

"Yes, let's go in, brat." The brat actually had the insolence to call him Tom in front of his followers. Yes, the Malfoys already knew his birth name, and yes it was probably true that Harry didn't know him by any other name, but Voldemort could help scowling. He definitely didn't pout because Harry showed that smile to the Malfoys. Definitely not.

The group of four went in the doors to Malfoys Manor.

* * *

And that's the end! Of Chap 6. Be back next time, hopefully with more reviews, favorites, and follows. As always criticism appreciated but please do try not to destroy my soul. Hopefully, I don't have many major mistakes in grammar, so see you till next time. Mwahaha!

~Kuro


	7. Big Brother's Tour

Disclaimer: Hope everyones enjoying their Christmas, or having just a nice day, if they don't celebrate Christmas. Anyway, i think you all know by now that I don't own Harry Potter, or his fellow characters, just the plot. Sorry for any spelling mistakes and grammar issues, and I promise, that no matter how similar it is to any other authors, the writing is my own. Now let's see is Harry and the others are having as nice of a Christmas Eve, as we did last night (us people in the US.) Enjoy~

~Kuro

* * *

 **Last Time:** The group of four went in the doors to Malfoys Manor.

 **Now:** December 24, 1989, 6:27pm

Harry mentally gasped in awe. Tom had told him about purebloods and their wealth and money, but he wasn't prepared for this. The entrance hall alone must have cost the Malfoys, thousands to build and maintain.

The floors were a black obsidian, and the walls white marble. To his immediate right was a roaring fireplace and an immaculate fluffy rug. On the shelf above was an ornate pot, which Harry guessed contained Floo powder, one of the methods of transportation Tom had mentioned in their lessons.

Lining the walls were many portraits of people who bore a resemblance to Lucius and a few that had some of Narcissa's features. Cloaked in shadows at the very end of the enormous hall was a grand staircase between two glass doors that led to other parts of the manor.

"This is the Entrance Hall where we welcome guests to Malfoy Manor, when we hold balls and galas. The portraits on the walls are our ancestors, who have been silenced only in this part of the house for convenience's sake." Lucius introduced.

Silenced? Harry questioned mentally. Ah! Tom had said something before about how portraits were able to move between other portraits and speak.

"This way, Harry, my lord." He gestured towards the grand staircase.

Walking up the stairs directed to, Harry blanked his face, and collected his calm. The party of four walked into what seemed to be a parlor. The light green colored room, was much warmer than the grand entrance hall. A light brown round table in the middle of the room held a vase of roses. Circled around the table was a sofa, armchair and loveseat, all done in shades of cream. Covering the floor was a soft baby blue rug. On the opposite wall was another fireplace, and a shadowed doorway.

"Sit. Make yourselves at home." Narcissa welcomed She and Lucius took the love seat and Tom sat down elegantly on the armchair, leaving the sofa to Harry. An awkward silence pushed in.

"Do you want to stay with us, Harry? I can't imagine that you would want to return to the muggles, but.." Narcissa trailed off.

"I would like to, if it proves no burden on you." Harry accepted gratefully. A gentle smile gracing his face.

Both Malfoys stifled their shock. It was the first time they had seen Harry's angelic smile up close, and it almost erased their memory of his bloodstained smile while torturing that muggle. His smile was so pure, it was as if he had no ideas about the different types of predators lurking around in the world, that would gladly pounce on that pureness and wreck it.

Lord Voldemort was close to letting emotion show in his eyes, but his iron will managed to close off any emotion in time. He had witnessed Harry's smile many times over the memories that Kindness had, but it was nothing compared to the physically version. He killed all of his unnecessary thoughts and cleared his throat.

"Lucius, search into any methods that will allow you to adopt Harry legally into the Malfoy family. There should be a clause in the laws about abusive parents that is rarely used, if not go to the goblins. They should be able to give some help. Make sure to be discreet as you do so. We cannot let the old fool suspect anything until it is too late for him." Voldemort ordered, his voice stern.

"Yes, my lord." Lucius replied diligently.

"Check the Potter will." Harry spoke up. All the heads turned toward him. "I don't think that my parents would have left me with h Dursleys on purpose. Dumbledore may have meddled with the wills using his positions as Headmaster and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot."

Voldemort nodded slowly, his ruby eyes calculating. "Yes, Lucius, Narcissa take Harry to Gringotts tomorrow, find out what you can and buy him the necessities of a son of the Malfoy house and the heir of House Potter. For tonight you and Narcissa, relax. You two have done well in finding Harry. I will retire to my study for now."

"You're staying here too, Tom?" Harry's voice cut through, a smile on his face.

The Malfoys stiffened in apprehension. They didn't wish to see Harry in pain, but they wouldn't be able to do anything if their lord turned his wand on Harry for being overly familiar.

"It's Vold… yes, I'm staying here as well." Voldemort's icy ruby eyes softened the slightest fraction when they landed on Harry. He started walking towards Harry. "Take care to not ruin the Malfoy reputation, and I expect you to study more about magic and etiquette while you are here, alright?" Without waiting for a confirmation, he leant down and softly kissed Harry's forehead. "I expect you to be great." He whispered softly, breath trailing along Harry's ear.

Standing up abruptly, Voldemort said, "I'll see you all at dinner."

"Yes, my lord." The Malfoys replied. "Dinner will be at nine." Narcissa added in.

"Good." Voldemort left the parlor from the door behind Harry's sofa.

"Narcissa, can you show Harry around, I have some documents in my study that need to be sent off by dinner time?" Lucius asked his wife.

"Of course, go ahead, I'll see you at dinner time then." Narcissa replied.

"Well, Harry, my son Draco is about your age. He'll be coming back soon, so why don't we wait for him and then he can take you on a tour of the manor? Narcissa said softly.

"Sure." Harry replied. "Thank you for having me, Narcissa."

"It's no problem at all Harry." Narcissa smiled warmly. "I hope to have you as part of the family. Here, these are the books that you dropped, while you were running. I dried them for you." she held out a stack of book, the one thing, Harry had bothered to keep from the Dursleys house.

"Thank you," Harry said gratefully. These were the books he had worked on ever since he had decided to not hold back and skipped grades. Some of them contained his knowledge about what magic Tom had told him about, the others were all about the knowledge he had gained from the Muggle world. He wondered if would have the chance to continue his education in muggle topics.

All of a sudden the fireplace roared to life, cutting off Harry's thoughts. The fire turned emerald green and leapt higher than before. At the same time, a ghostly white doe manifested into the room.

"I'm sending Draco over by floo, Narcissa. Have a good night." A deep tenor seemed to be speaking through the ghostly thing.

Narcissa smiled softly. "Prompt as always."

Harry wondered who she was talking to. Surely not the silvery creature. And yet the creature, harry figured was a doe, seemed to give off an unheard snort, and its eyes clearly gave off the message of 'what else did you expect'.

The fireplace spit out a boy that looked to be around half a head taller than Harry, and then went back to its normal yellow-orangish glow.

"Mother!" the boy exclaimed, after dusting the ash and soot off of himself. He walked over and hugged his mother tightly. "Who is this, mother?", the boy asked seemingly having noticed Harry for the first time.

The boy seemed to be observing him, so Harry reciprocated. The boy was, no doubt, Narcissa and Lucius' son. He had pale blonde hair, and blue-gray eyes, which were looking at him in curiosity and suspicion. He was taller than Harry by just a bit and held himself high, with a grace that seemed to have been taught.

"This is Harry, Draco. Harry, this is my son Draco." Narcissa introduced. "Draco, Harry will be staying with us from now on. Lucius is trying to get Harry legally adopted. Harry's been through a lot, so you need to take care of him as an older brother alright?"

"Yes mother." was Draco's short response, but if anything, Draco seemed to be scrutinizing him more.

"Draco, can you take Harry on a tour of the manor? His room will be one across from you. Show him to the shower afterwards, and lend him pair of your clothes for tonight, would you. We will go shopping for more clothes tomorrow." Narcissa asked, hoping that the two boys would get along. She knew that Draco had been spoiled by her and Lucius being the only child, but deep down, he would accept Harry being a part of the family as well. Maybe.

Draco silently nodded and reached for Harry's hand tugging him out of the door. "See you at dinner, mother." he said as he and Harry disappeared around the corner.

"So…. How do you know mother and father?" Draco starting questioning Harry as soon as he was sure he was out of his mother's hearing range. He stared at the slim and petite boy. His emerald green eyes looked blank, and Draco couldn't read his face. The boy's face was quite aristocratic, like his own, with a developing jaw line, high lose, and full pouty red lips. From what Draco had seen of his movements, he had innate grace, and moved with an elegance that made Draco jealous. The boy definitely looked like a proper pureblood heir, but Draco had been introduced to, or taught about all the pureblood lines that were worth anything, and none of them had any children that looked like this. Nor did any heirs have parents who recently passed, and would need adoptive parents. So, he concluded, Harry must have been a halfblood, because, he didn't look related to any purebloods, and his parents would have never thought about taking in a muggleborn.

"I'm Harry." harry said softly, his voice melodical. "You're Draco, right? Nice to meet you." a small smile curling up the edges of his lips, at Draco's silent confirmation.

"Yes, but Harry what? Don't you have a last name?" Draco inquired.

"Hm, I guess I do." Harry mock mused.

Harry was being infuriating on purpose, Draco was sure of it. "Never mind, when's your birthday?"

"July 31. I'm the same age as you." came back Harry's response.

"Nope, I'm older, my birthdays on June 5th, so I'm older by two months. Let's finish the tour. Right now, we are in the west wing, where immediate family resides. The east wing is where we hold balls, and where we have guest bedrooms, sitting rooms, and parlors." He gestured to a room on his right. "Here is the kitchen, when mother feels like baking something- normally our food is prepared by our house elves."

House elves? Harry wondered. Right, Tom had mentioned about the creatures that liked to cook and clean in some magical families. He peered into the kitchen. The floor was white tiled and the wall opposite them contained a wide window with beautiful view of the snow covered grounds. It was a wide spacious room, with shiny marble countertops, and gleaming muggle appliances. There was a kitchen island table in the middle, styled like a bar counter, with some barstools.

"Over here is a private sitting room." came Draco's voice from further along in the hall, this time from a door to his left.

Harry caught up with him, not quite running. This room was done in a light mint green with a wooden table in the middle, and comfortable looking sofas on either side of the room. The windows were covered in thick drapes, and the floor was covered in a velvety rug.

"Come, let's go upstairs." Draco urged, pointing up at the staircase at the end of the hall. "The third floor is where the bedrooms and the library are."

Harry perked up at the word library and starting walking a bit more faster. He walked into the first doorway he saw when he emerged from the staircase.

"Wait, Harry don't go in there yet. One of the Malfoy's have to give you access to the library, otherwise you'll be rejected from the room!" Draco exclaimed, coming up just in time to see Harry disappear into the room. Draco had never actually seen the wards in action, but he assumed that the wards would let anyone into the room, judge if they had permission, and then either kick them out if they didn't, or let the person be if they did. He winced inwardly. Being ejected from the room and crashing into the wall outside wouldn't be comfortable, but it wouldn't be too hard on Harry, Draco hoped.

Yet moments passed and nothing happened. Reaching the doorway, Draco peered inside, hoping that the wards hadn't thrown Harry into something else that was more harmful. He gawked when he found Harry in the middle of the room, perfectly unharmed, and observing the Malfoy library. Perhaps his father has lied about the wards, it was either that, or Harry was able to disentangle the wards, but that seemed like the most far fetched conclusion he had ever made in his life. Someone of his age able to dismantle, or slip past wards, it was unthinkable. No, more likely that his father had lied, for one reason or a another.

Harry took in the sunlight bathed room. The Malfoy library was even bigger than Priory Leighwood's library, and that was saying something, as the library had to be stocked for a few hundred smart students. There was a full wall glass window, that was uncovered, letting the sum stream into the room, setting it alight with a brilliant glow. Where he was at presently was the center of the library were there was a clearing. Space had been made to set some comfortable armchairs, and throw rugs in a circle. On the side without a window, the wall was lined with hundreds of colorful books, all neatly arranged and dusted. To either side of the clearing were bookcases and bookcases, stretching toward the far off ceiling, each stocked to the brim with books. The library seemed to go on forever, and Harry grinned. The sheer number of books might actually be enough to give him a challenge for once. He had been bored in his school, too smart to stay in line with the curriculum, too smart for his classmates to prove much of a challenge for him. This library just might.

"Well, you've discovered the library I guess," Draco said breaking the silence. "Be more careful when you start poking your nose into unidentified rooms though. Father told me that there were wards to stop unwanted intruders from going in, the library but maybe it was another room."

"Wards? You mean that tingly feeling I got when I passed the doorway?" Harry puzzled.

"Yea.. Wait, what!? There were wards on this room then. How did you get in. did someone give you access to the library." Draco's face adopted a shocked expression.

"No, i just walked in." Harry said raising his eyebrows, wonder what was so astonishing. There had been a sort of poke when he had passed the doorway, but certainly anyone could break through, if those were the only wards that Draco was talking about.

"Well, come on then." Draco motioned for Harry to follow him. On the other side of the library, were multiple doorways, all neatly spaced from each other. "These are the bedrooms for Malfoys, and related family. Mother told me that since you are being adopted by us, your room will be that one." Draco pointed to the blank white door, that mirrored the library door almost perfectly.

"Over here is my room." Draco said pointing to the door that they were currently standing in front of. It was another white door to the left of the library doors, and closer to the staircase that they had arrived from.

"There is mother's and father's room." Draco continued, pointing to the doorway, all the way at the end of the hallway. "The door between your room and my parents' is the guest bedroom, when we have relatives over. If guests stay the night, and they aren't related, they are put in the east wing."

"Mother wants you to wash up for dinner. Right now, we have a guest over, so you have to polite to him." Draco began steering Harry into his room. "Here you can wear some of my clothes for tonight because we'll go shopping tomorrow for you. All the bedrooms in this wing have an attached closet, and bathroom, so you can wash up in your room. For now, just come here."

Draco pushed Harry into the center of the room, where Harry instantly caught the image of his figure in a full body mirror adorning the wall opposite him. The blood from his unplanned torture session, was nowhere to be seen, so he assumed he had subconsciously erase traces of the mess. That must be why, Draco hadn't freaked out yet. Either that, or he had an impossibly good mask, which might actually be true. Even though there was no blood, he still looked like a mess compared to the luxuriousness of his surroundings. He could definitely use a shower, staring at his dishevelled hair, and ragged clothes.

Harry lifted his eyes from the mirror and observed his surroundings. Draco's room was nothing like Dudley's had been- not that he wanted it to be. It was immaculate, and everything was orderly. The wallpaper was done in a baby blue, and the floor, slate gray. There was a bed pushed against the intersection formed by the front and left walls, and a window that offered a view of the snow covered grounds. Against the remaining portion of the left wall, was a large wooden desk, and some shelves containing books that had titles like Intro to Brewing, Charm Basics 101 and From Animal and Back.

Draco had disappeared into one of the doors on the right wall, the one closer to the window side. Harry assumed it was his closet, and that the other doorway led to the bathroom, based off of what Draco had said earlier.

"Here." Draco reappeared from the doorway holding a handful of clothes folded neatly. "You look a bit smaller than me, but they should fit for tonight. Wear these to dinner tonight." He pointed to a emerald green shirt, black skinny jeans, and black dragonhide boots. "Father is less strict about apparel when we don't have guests over, but he says that our guest is alright with not wearing robes inside the house. Then for breakfast tomorrow, wear this set. Draco pointed this time to a pair of of navy jeans, and dark gray shirt. "After breakfast, we'll probably start getting ready to go to gringotts, and Diagon Alley, so you have to change into robes. Father insists on retaining proper decorum in public, so…" Draco trailed off, holding out a set of extremely dark green robes and a black cloak.

Harry silently nodded his head. "I should go wash up now shouldn't i?"

"Yea. your doors just down a few feet from mine. Just call if you need help. I'll be in my room, and I'll take you down to the dining table, when it's time for dinner alright?" Draco asked, walking over to his desk.

"Alright. Thank you, Draco." Harry smiled, grateful that Draco didn't seem to hate him for taking away his position as only child of the Malfoy family.

"Sure, Harry." Draco turned in time to catch a glimpse of Harry's smile just before he left the room.

He was left gaping behind Harry's retreating figure. Maybe, his parents actually were persuaded to take him in- a smile like that would have the world falling over its feet to have that smile directed at it. People could be convinced to do anything in return for that smile. His soon to be brother, would be one beautiful person in the future. Ugh. he would have to be the protective big brother, wouldn't he? He shook his head sighing at himself, contemplating his day.

He had spent the morning at his godfather, Severus' house. Then he had ate lunch and came home as usual, but at home, his mother was waiting with a totally random boy, who would be adopted into the Malfoy family. He was prepared to hate the boy, for sweeping into his family, but Harry was slowly starting to grow on him. Fine- he was the chance to be a big brother, then he would be the best damn big brother in the world. After all, Malfoy's were always at their best no matter what happened.

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Well, once again, I hope you all have a nice day, and spend it with your friends, family, and loved ones! Thanks to all those who read, reviewed and favorited- thanks to all of you for your support. See you next time.

~Kuro


	8. Dazzling Dinner

Disclaimer: Nope, still not J.K. Rowling, still don't own Harry Potter, but still wishing. Forgive me for any spelling or grammar mistakes, and I promise I don't up and run away with plots. Anyway, here's chapter 8. ~Kuro

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Last TIme:

 _"Alright. Thank you, Draco." Harry smiled, grateful that Draco didn't seem to hate him for taking away his position as only child of the Malfoy family._

 _"Sure, Harry." Draco turned in time to catch a glimpse of Harry's smile just before he left the room._

Now: December 24, 1989, 7:56pm

Harry wandered into the room that Draco had told him was his. It was furnished sparingly, as it wasn't expecting someone to be coming over to live quite so soon. The walls were white, and the floor a sparkling marble gray. The layout was much like Draco's room, except in reverse. There was a bed pushed in the right most corner, and a a desk parallel. To his left, were the same two doors that he had seen in Draco's room, except done in black.

Pop.

He did not jump. Nope.

"Master Harry! Master Draco has sent Dobby to help Master Harry be getting ready for dinner time. He's be saying that Harry is part of the family now, so I now be your personal house elf." Dobby started dragging Harry by the hand to the bathroom. "First, Dobby be helping Master Harry wash and dress appropriately. Then Dobby can clean and decorate the room for Master Harry. Mater Draco be saying that tomorrow Master Harry will be going shopping for things."

Inside the bathroom, Harry turned slowly, taking in the spacious white room, and the luxurious washing conditions. All the way to the back of the room was a tub, so big that it could probably fit the whole Dursley family, Marge, and all her feral dogs. A tap protruded from the wall, and small niches in the wall contained colorful shampoo and body wash bottles. To the right of the tub, was a slightly smaller area blocked off by a pane of see through glass. The showerhead was much higher on the wall but still seemed in easy reaching position. Then nearer to him was the toilet, and the black and white marble countertop sink. Above the sink was a vanity mirror, with face care products and a toothbrush tucked neatly underneath.

He moved toward the shower, before he realized that Dobby was still in the room, setting the towels by the railing next to the shower.

"Dobby?" Harry said tentatively.

"Yes, Master Harry? Is there be anything you is needing for?" Dobby asked.

"No, but can you leave the room while I shower? Also, can you unpack the stack of books that I left on the desk, and change the walls to black?" Harry replied.

"Of course Master Harry. Dobby is going to do that right away. Master does not require Dobby's help to shower?" Dobby reconfirmed, bobbing his head up and down all the while.

"No, it's alright for now. Can I just call you when I need your help?"

"Yes, Master Harry. Dobby will appear right away. Now Dobby will be going to change the wallpaper." Dobby said, leaving the room.

Harry started stripping his clothes off. Ms. Malfoy had sent a cleaning charm at his way, so they were no longer dripping with sweat and blood, but it felt good to take them off. He stepped into the shower, sighing in pleasure as the steaming hot water cascaded down his back.

It had been such a long time since he had felt truly clean, so he took the time to scrub himself ferociously with the soap, and run through his hair with the shampoo. Ridding himself of the Dursley's foul presence, he thought back on his day.

It had been a long time since he had fell for Vernon's verbal abuse. He ignored about half of all the things the Dursley's said to him, as they were only insulting him to get a rise out of him. The other half, he listened to, since those were the orders that the DUrsley's had. But still, he had grown proficient at turning a cold shoulder to their repeated insults, of how freakish he was, how he would always be worthless and an outcast among the good, normal people. He had learned to keep silent, to not respond, and to care only about himself-self preservation instincts and all that. So, why was his response to an insult for the first time in five years about an insult directed to not him but someone else?

Harry remembered Vernon's words clear as day, even now, one of the perks of having an eidetic memory he supposed. Vernon had screamed about how his only friends were imaginary, and how they would be a lesser being, less civilized, less smart, incapable of human emotions. He knew that Tom didn't count as an imaginary friend, and that Vernon had no idea about Tom, but he had still taken offence on Tom's behalf. Why? Why did he still care about someone who he thought had left him only a few hours earlier, and why would he step up in someone else's defence? He sure as fuck wasn't a Gryffindor- Tom had explained the house system to him, and what each house stood for to Harry.

He wasn't noble, or brave, no he prefered to stay back in the shadows and strike when there was a sure kill. But, if he hadn't had his magic today, it would have been like standing up, and volunteering to be killed by arguing with Vernon. So, why?

Did Tom really mean so much to him, that he would put himself in a position of being hurt for him? Harry puzzled, growing more and more anxious. Tom had always been there for him since that cold snowy day. He had taught Harry, about the branches of magic, social etiquette, mostly everything that Harry knew about, except for muggle subjects. Tom had lent him short bursts of energy, when he spent time to recover himself from one of Vernon's particularly bad beatings. He got Harry out of the Dursley's. He had cared, when no one else had. But, was it enough?

Was it enough that Harry would risk himself for Tom?

Harry gazed dispassionately at the showerpane, fogged up by steam. He had stood there, taking in the feeling of hot water falling down around him, mind racing. Was it enough?

No, he thought. The real question was- did he want to?- want to risk it all for Tom?

Feeling his skin starting to wrinkle, he got out of the shower, wrapping the towel around himself. Drying off, and putting another towel over his messy hair, he put on the clothes that Draco had lent him. The emerald green shirt was a bit loose, and came up to cover his palm, but was soft and silky. The black skinny jeans, however were almost a perfect fit, being only a centimeter longer than necessary. Harry rolled up the very end of the jeans and slipped on the dragonhide boots. Tightening the laces on his shirt, Harry exited the bathroom, after touseling his hair dry.

The room he had stepped into look quite different from the room that he had came from. The walls were jet black, and hanging on one side were his paintings, and drawings- an entire stack that he had managed to save from destruction after stuffing them into a random notebook. On an adjacent wall, the curtains, were pulled away from the window, letting natural light flood in- the only light contributor in the room. The chandelier on the ceiling was turned off, but its intricate parts were reflecting the light, and shimmering. The bed was still pushed along the wall, but the mattress was a soft blue, and the coverings, pure white. The cherry wood desk was opposite the bed, and the notebooks that he had created were lining the shelves above. Covering the floor was a white, furry rug, and the ceiling was also painted white.

Harry turned to the door he had just appeared from was a dark navy, barely distinguishable from the black, as was the closet door next to it, and the door leading to the hallway.

Harry opened the door to the closet and the light turned on automatically. The room was decorated much like his bedroom, the walls painted a jet black, and the carpeting extending along into this room, but the ceiling was the only difference. It was a pale, pale, blue- almost white, but with a tint of color. The two other sets of clothing that Draco had lent were hanging neatly from the hangers, according to his instructions of when to wear them. It was rather empty, so he could see towards the back that there was a full wall mirror and rug and chair, presumably for styling outfits. He exited the room, and gently closed the door, heading back to his desk.

All of a sudden Dobby popped back up. "How is Master Harry liking his rooms? Is there anything you is wishing Dobby to change?"

"No, I think you've done a great job, Dobby, it looks fantastic." Harry said, his lips curling up into a smile. "Hey Dobby, can you get something for me?"

"What is it, Master Harry? Dobby will do anything Master Harry tells him to do!" Dobby said ecstatically, tears still streaming madly down his face from being told good job.

"Can you get me pen and paper, I ran out." Harry said sheepishly holding up his full notebook. "Oh, I guess, I mean a quill and parchment."

"Of course sir!" Dobby said, vanishing and reappearing again, holding a roll of parchment, and a handful of quills. "Dobby is sorry for forgetting something. Dobby will go to punish himself by sticking his hands in the stove now." Dobby said, on the verge of popping away again.

"Wait, Dobby, don't do that. It's alright, Narcissa told me we would go shopping tomorrow for clothes and supplies so it's not your fault." Harry's kindness kicked in, memories replaying of when Vernon and Petunia had held his hands against the burning pot when he was still learning how to cook. He could never imagine forcing it on someone, who hadn't done anything to deserve the scorching pain.

"Dobby does not have to go?" Dobby looked up from his self induced scolding and shame. "Master is too kind, too lenient. Dobby will be forever grateful to master, Dobby will do anything Master requires.!"

"It's alright Dobby," Harry said kindly. "In the future, don't punish yourself, just come to me and tell me what you did wrong, and then I'll tell you what you should do, alright? You can go now, Draco said he'll come take me to dinner."

"Yes, Master. Dobby will come whenever Master calls." Dobby exclaimed, disappearing with a pop.

Harry sat gracefully down at his desk, and switched on, a small light he hadn't noticed before. A small bright light, colored the surface of his desk. He unrolled the parchment, and inked the quill, repeating the movements Tom had shown him. He wasn't able to practice with a physical quill back then, and it was harder manipulating the real thing, but he still had a bit of muscle memory from practice. His cursive lessons from high school also helped, and he was determined to have at the very least, a clearly legible handwriting, if not a good one. Repeating the motions over and over again, he was soon able to write out the alphabet clearly, in a flowing script. It was nowhere near the level of his handwriting with a pen, but he would catch up soon, Harry reflected.

At that moment, Draco appeared at the door, ready to show Harry downstairs. Draco knocked on the door lightly, and turned the doorknob when he heard a soft, but clear "Come in." Draco pushed the door inside to reveal Harry, already dressed in the clothes that he had laid out for him. Draco's breath catched. The clothes fit Harry. Extremely well.

Harry was sitting at the desk, cross legged in his spinny chair, quill balanced between three fingers. He raised his head at the soft knock at the door, expecting Draco to come in. Draco seemed to be surprised at the different decorations in the room. "Not what you were expecting?" Harry asked smiling when he saw the small nod. "The room is rather dark, but it suits my taste, don't you think."

"Not at all, the clothe- wait what?" Draco's brain turned on its head.

"The room?" Harry asked, head tilted innocently. "What were you talking about?"

"Oh, yea, the room looks great." Draco said mortified. For the first time, he took in Harry's room. The room did look great. The details were sleek and modern, but the light dancing across the desk, and the paintings on the wall gave a homey feel. "Well, we should start heading down to dinner now. Father hates people being late, even though mother has to call him to dinner most of the time." Draco muttered under his breath.

He took Harry by the hand, and guided him down the staircases, and past a room, into the family dining room, which seated around six. His father's business partner, Marvolo, and his mother were there already, seated at the table. only his father was missing, as he and Harry sat down.

Tom was at the head of the table, with and empty space on the right, and then Narcissa. The two seats to the left of Tom were vacant, and Harry assumed that the seat on the right was Lucius's so Harry sat to the left of Tom. Draco plopped down next to him, and greeted his mother.

Harry turned and smiled at Tom. "WIll I get to see you around sometimes?"

"At dinner time, brat. Maybe more if you study hard." Voldemort tried his best not to give any promises, but damn Harry's innocent smiles. "Tomorrow, you will have to go to Diagon Alley to get the goblins to perform a blood adoption ritual, and to get you out of DUmbledore's meddlesome hands. Then you can get proper clothes and belongings, befitting your status. You remember the pureblood rules and etiquette I taught you right?" Voldemort confirmed.

"Yup." Harry grinned. The things that Tom had taught him would be the only things he would want to commit to memory, if he didn't have such a good memory.

"Good., right now, you are still nine, so after the Malfoys adopt you, Dumbledore will have no jurisdiction over you for two years, until you are eleven and go to Hogwarts. Spend these two years wisely alright. The Malfoys will arrange tutors for you, so you can take your lessons alongside Draco. I do expect that with my lessons, you will be ahead of Draco, even though he has had tutors since he was seven. If not, work hard to catch up, understand? Other pureblood heirs have all begun training at around the same time, and some even earlier- you do not want to be caught unaware beside them." Voldemort rambled. He didn't think that Harry would be behind at all- he had shared almost all the lessons he had taken at hogwarts up to the fifth year to Harry after all.

"When you go to Gringotts tomorrow, ask for an inheritance test. Most pureblood heirs only receive a lord or ladyship when the previous head dies, retires or, when they become of age. However because you are the last remaining Potter, you might be able to receive your lordship early, or if not, then the heir ring." Harry nodded remembering his lessons on the famous influential lords and ladys still alive.

At that moment Lucius appeared after being called down to eat by Narcissa, and small talk began circulating the table, an opening to a peaceful dinner.

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Chapter 8 done, and over, time for finals to kill my soul. Thanks to any follows, favorites, and reviews- they inspire me. Have a lovely stress free week! ~Kuro


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